


Always the Rain

by reliquiaen



Category: Agents of SHIELD - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 09:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3405623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reliquiaen/pseuds/reliquiaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"On Wednesday, she dared to make contact." - In which Jemma Simmons totally does not control the weather. Because that's ridiculous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always the Rain

Despite the obvious reasons for Jemma to be having a breakdown, there appeared to be approximately zero to no noticeable expressions on her face conveying that such a thing might be happening. In fact, with her lidded eyes, compressed lips and the way she flicked her pen absently through her fingers, she looked bored. 

Which… okay, fair enough. This is Jemma Simmons she’s (daydreaming) thinking about after all. So she probably _is_ bored. This level of mathematics is something she could do in her sleep. What she’s even doing in this class baffles Skye on a regular basis.

But she’s still here. She sits in the exact same chair every day; one row in front and one seat to the left of her. And Skye notices this a lot. Especially on good days.

Days completely unlike today, actually.

On a nice, bright, sunny day, the light shines through the window beside Jemma’s desk and from this angle, Skye can happily stare at the way it catches her hair and limns her profile and it’s really nice. Cloudless days are her favourite for this exact reason. Maybe she should pay attention to what the maths teacher is droning on about, sure. But honestly, how the hell is she supposed to concentrate when _Jemma Simmons_ is sitting in front of her?

She can’t be expected to. It’s not realistic.

Because Jemma Simmons is perfection and light incarnate and just maybe Skye has a tiny bit of a crush on her. Maybe. Just a small one. No big deal.

Today though. Man. Today just sucks, doesn’t it? It’s all gloomy and overcast and it’s been raining since around six in the morning and there are no little beams of light dancing across Jemma’s face. It’s a crime, honestly.

But a fitting one, arguably. 

Generally speaking, Skye keeps her nose out of the rumour mill lest it be turned into ground beef. So she’d been terribly surprised to discover a side of herself desperate to know more about the car crash over the weekend. A student had been involved. She didn’t have a clue if he was driving or anything like that, just that he’d been hospitalised. 

Leopold Fitz was Jemma’s best friend. They geeked together; more Skye didn’t know. Like her, they kept to themselves. So the bad weather seemed freakishly like an ominous portent. Or maybe the world seemed to sense Jemma’s (and the rest of the student body, to be fair; he might be quiet but nobody hated Fitz) anxiety over it.

Which is why when the teacher’s back was turned to scribble some hideously complex formula on the board, Skye did something very strange: she slid out of her desk and flopped into the chair usually occupied by Fitz. Jemma spared her one very curious glance – complete with raised eyebrows and surprised huff – but Skye made a point to focus intently on her book.

They exchanged not a single word all lesson (much to Skye’s relief).

And when Skye silently sat beside the other girl in their next class (history, thank goodness, no more maths today) she got another odd look but the quiet remained. By the time the second class drew to a close, a little bit of light had snuck through the clouds.

Skye tried not to read into it.

The weather is not prophetic.

 

XX

 

For the rest of the week, Skye did two things that are very much out of character. The first of which consisted simply of sitting in perfect silence beside Jemma in all their classes (honestly, having Jemma in every last one of her lessons was definitely not good for her productivity). And the second was keeping her ear to the ground. Listening to gossip was not high on her list of things she enjoys doing, but she doesn’t exactly have friends so it was the only way she had a hope of finding out what happened to Jemma’s pal.

Turns out he wasn’t critically hurt, but his parents are neurotic (that’s her word, not the official diagnosis) and wanted him kept in the hospital for observation for that week. Jemma apparently had taken to delivering his homework. Heaven forbid he miss anything.

It also remained mostly overcast all week.

And Skye only noticed because Jemma remained mostly overcast all week too.

 

XX

 

On Wednesday, she dared to make contact.

“Simmons?” she asks softly.

The other girl seems honestly startled that she’s being addressed. That was fair enough since up to that point they hadn’t said a word to each other. “Yes?”

God damn British accent. Skye shifts uncomfortably. “This chemical compound…” she points to the diagram she’d drawn in her book. It was meant to look like the formula on the practice quiz. Only… “It’s wrong, isn’t it?”

Jemma’s brow pinches slightly as she peers at Skye’s book. Alright, so her handwriting isn’t the best. Sue her. “Yes,” she agrees. Her finger slipping across the page, bumping Skye’s out of the way. “You missed the oxygen here. Aluminium sulfate hexadecahydrate has an extra ‘O’.”

She blinks at her paper, not really understanding. Damn science. Why did she decide to do chemistry?

Something prods her arm and she turns to see. Jemma tilts her book, showing Skye her diagram. Skye’s eyes flicker between the two before she realised. “Oh. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Interaction complete.

 

XX

 

Friday dawns with noticeably fewer clouds than previously. Must be clearing up for the weekend. Awesome.

Only when she arrives at school, she thinks maybe it’s for a different reason.

And that’s when she started paying attention to the weather.

She sinks into her borrowed seat next to Jemma for maths and when the other girl offers her a tentative smile she’d be lying to say she isn’t the tiniest bit surprised. Jemma had maintained a steadily morose demeanour for the last four days. Probably because she was down a best friend. That’d make anyone a tad grumpy.

Skye supposed that it would anyway. She doesn’t know for sure. Since she doesn’t have a best friend and all that.

“Good morning, Skye,” Jemma mutters.

She blinks. “Morning, Simmons.” Her reply is markedly less chipper and blatantly more on the confused side of things.

“You can use my first name,” she’s told. “It won’t hurt you.”

Skye just bobs her head. For a long while nothing happens. The companionable silence that had reigned all week still lingers over them. Skye doesn’t know if she wants that to change or if she’s perfectly happy the way things are. Change can be scary.

But then, “Jemma, how does this factorise?”

And Jemma smiles. The wonderful one that Skye hadn’t seen in a while; it had been hidden by the clouds. When she explains the method it made so much more sense than when the teacher had prattled on about… whatever. It got Skye thinking that maybe this time it’d stick with her.

By the end of the lesson, the clouds were finally parting.

That was the first time.

 

XX

 

A heart-stoppingly terrifying rumble rolls across the sky outside. It’s really only that magnitude of scary because there isn’t a single cloud in the clear blue. There was simply a single peal of thunder followed by quiet. It wasn’t even of the whip crack variety. Just a low, thrumming sound that wouldn’t even rate a mention in a storm.

Only it isn’t storming. In fact, for the last week, there had been nothing but sunshine. Which was fine by Skye, truth be told. When Fitz had turned up again on Monday, she’d resumed her usual seat, one row back and one seat to the right of Jemma. They went back to not speaking.

Normality returned, in other words.

Except… it wasn’t really normal, alright? She’d kinda be lying if that’s what she called it. Skye fixed that: it was normal apart from the way Fitz takes up looking at her. His expression becomes more of an… apathetic death glare than just a _look_ though. 

She doesn’t know what his problem is.

And when the thunder drummed across the heavens she nearly jumped out of her skin, glancing up and around. As always, the first thing that pops out at her is Jemma Simmons. Looking radiant as ever in her usual seat with Fitz back at her side. Their heads are down; discussing something in a heated half-whisper, blurting words out faster than any human being could interpret. 

Skye – along with most of her cohort – had long since decided that Fitz and Simmons (affectionately referred to as Fitzsimmons) were telepathically linked or _something_. There’s really no other explanation for the way they finish each other’s sentences and have entire novel length conversations in a single glance. Skye sure doesn’t know anyone else who can do it.

So she figures whatever they’re having this rushed debate about must be serious. They only use full sentences when they’re bickering (they don’t argue, they bicker; like an old couple) about something. Probably has to do with them not seeing eye-to-eye on the topic in question and needing to voice their thoughts. Which possibly disproves the telepathy thing but that’s whatever.

Skye returns her attention to her maths book. She tries to keep her focus either there or on the teacher, but that’s really hard with Jemma being gorgeous right in front of her. So maybe her gaze gets side-tracked a few times. No one could blame her.

On one such detour, she finds Jemma staring back at her.

They both look away with similar amounts of haste.

Fitz glares at her some more. It’s new, but Skye figures it’ll soon become just another normal thing that happens.

 

XX

 

She’s not wrong. It takes her roughly two days before she’s accustomed to the way Fitz scowls any time he sees her. She shrugs him off for the most part. Not being a confrontational person means she can’t just mosey up and ask him why he seems so put out by her mere existence.

And roughly a week after that, there’s a day so blustery it’s almost impossible to walk between buildings. The wind howls past the shutters in their third class and Fitz lets out a resigned sigh. Skye tries not to be curious.

By the end of the lesson though, the wind has dropped away, so kids file outside to eat lunch, braving the last of the choppy weather. Skye sits in her usual spot behind the gym where most of the wind is blocked out anyway. It isn’t until she steps back around the side after eating her food that she even realises it’s started to cloud over again. She frowns, but dismisses it. Weather can be fickle.

When she slumps into her seat for literature, she’s actually surprised to find Jemma wearing a little frown too. Fitz looks downright furious and he fixes one hundred percent of that ire on Skye. He goes so far as to twist in his seat so he can expose her to the maximum amount of it. Jemma says something softly to him and he grumbles but at least leaves Skye alone after that.

The wind remains for the rest of the day.

 

XX

 

It takes another month before anything noteworthy happens in Skye’s quiet little life. Between walking to her current foster home (an understanding place if ever there was one) and school, very little of any worth happens to her. So when Jemma slides into the seat beside her during maths one morning, shoots her a positively luminous grin and greets her cheerily, Skye’s heart just about stops.

“Good morning, Skye,” Jemma says like this is perfectly normal.

For a moment there’s this lump in her throat preventing her from speaking because _oh my god_ , Jemma Simmons is sitting next to her. Right there. So close. She just sat down beside Skye. Someone needs to get her a paper bag. Holy crap.

“Uh… morning…” she eventually manages to gasp. “Why are you… um…?”

Thankfully, Jemma seems to know what she means. “Why here? Oh well… Fitz is away with the flu today. And you always look so lonely so I thought I’d keep you company.” She leaves unsaid (deliberately, Skye thinks) that the last time Fitz had been away, Skye sat with her too. Maybe this is her repaying that.

Skye just nods and goes back to watching the board. Jemma sitting beside her makes it hard for her to stare without getting caught, and besides, she’s on the wrong side anyway.

This time, the silence feels almost oppressive, so Skye asks, “Does Fitz not like me?”

The breathy laugh that oozes between Jemma’s teeth is so obviously fake it’s almost unbearable. “What? No. Of course not; don’t be silly.” But Jemma’s pen is clicking in an almost agitated way and when Skye risks a glance at her she’s worrying her lip between her teeth.

“Sure. He probably thinks I’m trying to sidle into your life and use you for your smarts.” She means it jokingly (mostly), but when her eyes lift to meet Jemma’s there’s something unreadable there. Something that says maybe she hit the nail on the head and Jemma is shocked by this and kind of appalled that Skye could think such a thing.

“Well you’re not,” Jemma finally says, decisively. “I know you’re not because we spoke all of twice last week…” She trails off, clearly just now remembering that both of those conversations were about school work. 

Skye offers a shrug even though there’s nothing but honesty in Jemma’s eyes. “You looked lonely,” is all she can say.

But it must have been the right thing because then Jemma’s smiling again. “Maybe we just need to talk more, is all. About other things.”

Suddenly Skye can’t stop from smiling either. It sounds nice.

 

XX

 

And just like that she and Jemma start talking more. By default this means Skye is also subjected to conversations with a still mildly irate Fitz, but she can put up with that. Especially if it means that seating arrangements in class now involve Jemma perching on the hard plastic chair beside her and beaming that gorgeous smile at her and generally just being wonderful.

It’s on one drizzly morning a few months later that Skye finally begins to grasp what’s going on here. She sinks with a soft sigh into her regular spot and waits for her usual ray of sunshine to flounce into the classroom with her slightly less enthusiastic shadow trailing after her. Only Jemma doesn’t look particularly thrilled on this particular day and Fitz looks positively morose.

“What’s up?” Skye asks softly, not quite sure if this is a boundary she’s not allowed to cross.

Jemma throws her a watery smile. “My cat passed away this morning,” she mutters.

“I’m sorry,” she consoles even though she’s never had a pet and doesn’t know the first thing about missing one.

A half-hearted shrug is Jemma’s whole reply and they lapse into silence. 

Skye honestly tries throughout the rest of the day to cheer Jemma up. Fitz does too, but he has markedly less success than Skye and this makes her feel oh so proud of herself. Especially when right near the end of the day she actually gets a proper smile out of the other girl. It’s tentative and wary, but when Skye beams at her, it curves up and the clouds part.

Just like that, they slowly waft away.

 

XX

 

It’s not long after that when the clouds turn the sky into a boiling black cauldron. In fact, the horrible melancholy rumble of thunder is what wakes her at a stupid hour of the morning. She can’t get back to sleep though, no matter how hard she tries.

She can’t because she knows – deep down, regardless of how silly it sounds – that Jemma is sad about something. Given how the rain drums the roof endlessly though, ‘sad’ probably isn’t the right word. 

Jemma Simmons is devastated.

And she doesn’t find out why until she arrives at school (which isn’t cancelled despite the appalling weather). Skye isn’t exactly inclined to believe the rumours filling the halls of her high school, but taking the weather into account and the fact that Fitz is missing too… Yeah, she thinks it’s plausible.

It makes her wish she could be with Jemma, to maybe cheer her up (not that she’d know how). But her heart just aches. 

Skye may not have a mother, but she can’t imagine it’d be easy to find out she’s been diagnosed with terminal cancer. So she understands why the sky is crying along with Jemma. And maybe she tears up a little bit too.

Maybe.

 

XX

 

Still, Skye’s not _quite_ convinced she isn’t going insane for entertaining the idea that Jemma Simmons has super powers. So she just watches. Even though being so fixated on weather patterns makes her feel just a little bit crazy. And she takes their newly formed (and possibly tenuous) friendship as justification to make her feel a little bit better.

It’s not because Skye’s getting sick of cloudy days and it’s not because she’s so very attracted to Jemma. At least… not entirely. She just wants to see Jemma smile. Wants her to not look so forlorn and hopeless. She wants her not to be sad.

Although that’s a tall order. Skye tries anyway.

After three months, Fitz stops glaring at her.

After three and a half he actually speaks to her with a modicum of friendliness.

After four, Skye’s sitting in the quad in her free period staring at the sky, trying to pick shapes out of the clouds. It’s more exciting than her ancient history assignment, alright? She doesn’t give two flying whistles what that one Roman dude did or whether Nero could even play whatever that instrument was. Did not care.

But she sat up when clouds rolled in.

It hadn’t really taken her long to realise the weather always seemed gloomy when Jemma was upset. It was _super_ weird and highly inexplicable – totally sci-fi and she would probably end up a mental patient – but it was consistent at any rate.

So she snatches up her bag, slings the strap across her shoulder and heads for the library. Jemma has a free period too, only she spends it in the library. No burgeoning friendship between them would see Jemma stray from her studious library time. And Skye wouldn’t dream of tempting her.

Okay, that’s just a plain old lie. She is sorely tempted to cajole Jemma out into the sun for just one class. But given that today’s weather has darkened in the space of five minutes, she’s thinking maybe it can wait.

She strolls into the library and pokes her head into the carrels, trying to locate her. Jemma is conspicuously missing. So she tries the aisles between towering shelves. Skye finds Jemma leaning with her back to the rough brick wall somewhere between the fall of Rome and… well whatever came next.

Jemma’s eyes snap up when Skye blocks the light at the end, even in the dimness, she can see the girl’s face colour with surprise.

“You’re never in the library now,” Jemma accuses her.

“You’re upset,” Skye replies as she sinks slowly down beside her. It’s cramped here at the end and their shoulders rub together. This is just something else Skye doesn’t care about.

Jemma blinks. “How did you know?”

Wordlessly, Skye points to the window where clouds are finally spitting out the first drops of rain. It takes Jemma a moment to realise what she means, but when it dawns on her she sucks in a deep breath.

“The weather,” Skye mumbles. “It’s always grey when you’re sad. What’s happened?”

A strangely hesitant laugh hisses from Jemma’s mouth. “It’s silly.”

“It’s gotten the sky to cloud over,” Skye points out, wry smile tilting her lips. “So it’s not silly.”

Jemma looks at her, that something unreadable is back. “They cancelled the science fair,” she admitted. “I know it’s sort of lame, but I still got all excited about it.” There was more to it, but Skye knew better than to ask. It’s not her place.

“Hey, Jem?”

A hum.

“Can you really control the weather?”

And then a laugh. “Not really. I don’t have any say in it. For some reason, it just mirrors my emotions.” She shrugs. “Always has.”

“That is extremely cool,” Skye breathes.

Jemma’s eyebrows vanish into her fringe. “You think so?”

“I absolutely do. Must sort of suck though. You’re wearing your heart on the sky, after all.”

This time when Jemma laughs, it’s honest. “Thank you.” Her fingers land on Skye’s knee and her head on her shoulder.

“For what?”

“Not freaking out. When you asked if Fitz didn’t like you… he was just worried that you’d find out about… the weather and you’d make some sort of spectacle out of it.”

Skye only smiled. “I’m not so big on spectacles, would you believe?”

“I’d noticed.”

It falls quiet and the sky clears once more.

 

XX

 

“Do you just make it rain?” Skye asks one Friday afternoon in biology. It’s the only class they have without Fitz (aside from their spares) and he still doesn’t know that Skye’s in the loop on the whole… _weather_ thing. “Or were you the one making it snow last year? Because honestly, if that wasn’t you, that’s the freakiest weather I’ve ever seen.”

Jemma’s smiles have become more frequent of late and Skye quite enjoys it. This time the smile flickers. “That was me. It snows when I’m angry. Really, exceptionally mad.”

“So… not often then,” Skye teases, hoping to draw Jemma away from whatever bad memory flashed across her eyes.

“No. Not often.” A long pause. “The wind was me too. Frustration and confusion lead to blustery weather.”

“I know…” Skye begins carefully. “I know that emotions aren’t something to mess with, but that is just so awesome. Think if you got _really_ frustrated with something. We could have a tornado.”

The comment – uttered with the smallest traces of childish wonder – manages to bring that blinding smile of Jemma’s back to the fore. Which is really all Skye could ask for.

“Emotions are a complex thing,” Jemma murmurs. “I’m sure I haven’t even touched the surface.”

 

XX

 

Skye is not curious at all to see what other phenomenon Jemma could pull out. She isn’t. That would be awful of her.

Only she is. 

A little bit.

Not that she ever acts on the impulse to try and stimulate some sort of response. This desperate need for more information must be what Jemma meant all those times she prattled on about scientific curiosity. It sure does burn.

She dances around the idea of just outright _asking_ Jemma about it all. Then decides she’s not brave enough. But not being brave enough to ask doesn’t mean she can’t notice when the weather is doing something funky and act on it.

After six months, Skye’s spent a few afternoons at Jemma’s house studying. Fitz voiced his apprehensions a few times, but Skye just rolled her eyes and ignored him. Over-protective best friends can be like that. And it’s not like she had anything sinister in mind. More masochistic than anything else.

Honestly, hanging out with the girl she’s hopelessly mooning after doesn’t help her case. And every time Jemma’s smile lands on her Skye can feel herself sinking just a little bit deeper. Every time their shoulders brush on the lounge or their hands bump or Jemma gets that soft expression… Skye’s heart beats too hard and her throat constricts and her lungs feel like pending explosions. It’s not healthy.

But her self-torture has at least come with the added benefit of Jemma’s phone number on her speed dial and her address burned into the back of Skye’s mind. It doesn’t sound like much of a benefit until the one day when she’s sitting on her front porch reading a novel (that Jemma had said was one of her favourites), just enjoying the sunshine.

It doesn’t last.

A flash of lightning on the horizon makes her look up. Skye watches the heavens, frowning, until the next bolt of lightning is accompanied with a slow drumroll. The skies in the distance are so black they’re almost green, the clouds looking like something straight out of a terrifying sci-fi movie. And they’re heading this way. Then she drops her book, races down the stairs to her bike and pedals as fast as she can down the street. Apparently Jemma doesn’t live all that far from her and Fitz is just… like three houses down. Small world.

She just about throws her bike at the concrete driveway when she arrives – huffing and winded – in her haste to bound up the path to knock on Jemma’s front door. The man who opens the door Skye knows is Jemma’s father. And he knows Skye by this point too and offers her a tight smile before letting her in. There’s something pinching his eyes together but Skye doesn’t know what it means and she’s in too much of a hurry to see Jemma to care anyway.

“She’s upstairs,” he tells her, but Skye’s already haring up the steps to Jemma’s room. 

Almost she forgets to knock, but her knuckles hit the door at the last second. “I’m fine, Fitz,” is called from inside.

Skye figures that since she’s not Fitz, it’s perfectly fine for her to push the door open and step inside. She’s greeted with the sight of a Jemma burrito bundled up on her bed. Her friend glances up, tear tracks streaking her face, hair in uncharacteristic disarray.

“Skye,” she says; the surprise evident in her tone. But something flickers in her eyes that isn’t the bone deep sorrow of moments prior. “What are you doing…?”

Hesitantly, she takes another step towards her friend, pushing the door shut behind her. “I’ve never seen clouds that dark before,” she mutters, shuffling the tiniest bit closer. “I figured it must be serious. So I came to see how you’re doing.” She shrugs.

Jemma’s hand appears from somewhere in her blanket cocoon and pats the bed beside her. It’s a tight fit, but Skye doesn’t mind, it gives her a reasonable excuse to sit really close to Jemma.

Neither of them speak for a long time. They simply sit and listen to the approaching storm. It sounds like a real doozy.

“The hospital called,” Jemma eventually whispers, her head sinking down onto Skye’s shoulder. “My mum passed away this morning.”

And Skye feels her heart break.

As if the words were the last straw on an already impressive bale, Jemma turns her face into Skye’s collar and cries. Outside, the first fat drops of rain patter against the roof. For a moment Skye’s not really sure what she should do. But Jemma’s hands fist in Skye’s shirt and she figures that perhaps just being here is good enough.

Her arm winds around Jemma’s middle and she holds on tight while Jemma (and the storm) cry herself dry.

 

XX

 

It’s not like anything’s really different after that. Except that things _do_ feel kind of different. Not in a bad way, though. Which is refreshing as far as Skye’s concerned.

The sky remains stuck on grey for a long time – weeks, maybe even a full month. Skye stops counting days after the funeral. She shows up and she can tell Jemma wasn’t expecting her to. Even Fitz looks a little bit surprised. Skye just ducks her head and stands beside Jemma.

She doesn’t particularly think about it (a strong suit of hers, if she does say so herself) before her hand finds Jemma’s. Her friend doesn’t seem to mind at all, either. Her fingers slide between Skye’s and the way their palms fit together makes her heart thud a little harder than it should.

Naturally, everyone at the funeral is holding black umbrellas. How could it be any other way when Jemma is attending her mother’s funeral?

And Skye feels really stupid (and a little bit narcissistic just thinking about it), but the rain stops falling not long after that. A solid grey remains arched above them – sure – but the rain is gone. Fitz and Jemma’s father both seem surprised by it. Skye is too, honestly. She’d been expecting a thunderstorm.

But it’s just cloudy after that.

More rain might fall later, but that’s another story.

When Skye searches Jemma’s face for an explanation for this (maybe she’s learned better control or something?) all she can see is a watery smile flickering behind her eyes. She doesn’t look as sad anymore. Skye wonders why.

 

XX

 

Okay, so maybe things are a little bit different. It’s not all in her head. Something’s definitely up.

She knows, because Fitz just about tells her as much.

“You know about her… condition, don’t you.”

The words are more accusation than question, but Skye still spins around – startled – by them. Fitz is leaning against the side of the school building with his rucksack thrown across his shoulder. Probably waiting for Jemma. More than once, Skye’s been invited by Jemma to walk home with them; after all, it’s the same general direction. But it feels strange so she always mumbles a lame excuse and hurries away. And she dismisses the look of hurt that unfailingly flashes across Jemma’s face.

But now, it’s just Fitz. Jemma could be anywhere, delayed by any number of things and Skye can’t count on her for a rescue (which Skye thinks is odd given that it’s the last day of the term, what could be more important than getting home?). So she just blinks at him.

“Her what?” she asks despite knowing precisely what he’s talking about. Her eyes flick up at the still gloomy sky reflexively.

Fitz follows her gaze. “Her condition,” he goes on in a lower voice. “The weather… She told you.”

Skye rolls her eyes. “Honestly, nerd boy, when it rains every time something sad crosses her mind, it’s not too hard to piece together.” The words are a lot droller than she intended, her tone a little condescending. She can’t help it.

He exhales. “I warned her against you finding out.”

“I know.” Skye hitches her bag higher. “She told me that too.”

His smile is wry, not an expression seen often on his features. “Figures,” he grumbles. “I still think she’s put too much trust in you.”

The last is said so quietly Skye thinks she’s not meant to hear it. Honestly, it’s just plain _weird_ to think anyone trusts her at all. She’s got a history for breaking rules and everyone knows it. Hell, the knowledge is written all over Fitz’s face.

Somehow though, his words hold more weight than she initially thinks. “I’m not going to tell anyone,” she assures him. Only it’s not all that assuring, she doesn’t think; not to Fitz. “They’d just lock me in a padded room if I did.” The joke doesn’t quite cover it, she’s sure.

His eyes meet hers briefly but before he can say something else Jemma comes bounding out of the building. There’s a surprising amount of cheer on her face. More than Skye’s seen in a while anyway. Her gaze lifts, wondering if the smile is cosmetic… but no… there does appear to be a thinning in the cloud cover.

Jemma notices her attention shift and the smile flickers to… something else. It’s the unreadable look she gets increasingly of late. Or maybe it’s only unreadable because Skye doesn’t want to read it. Especially not when her heart does that lurching thing and the air in her lungs expands painfully. Good pain… which is super weird.

But then… Jemma Simmons controls the sky with her emotions. So what is ‘weird’ really?

Then her arm is being appropriated by Jemma’s and Skye finds herself being dragged down the street, heading home. Fitz – looking a mix of shocked and peeved – hurries after them.

“You’re in a good mood,” Skye notes.

Jemma offers a sort of half-shrug. “School’s out?” she tries.

Skye doesn’t believe her and _knows_ it says so in the way she rolls her eyes.

“I don’t know,” Jemma admits. “I’m just… I feel better.”

“That’s good to hear,” she mumbles. It’s pathetic but true.

 

XX

 

Fitz – as it happens – spends the spring break camping with his parents. Something about tradition or whatever nonsense he cited? Skye can’t understand why anyone would ever want to go camping. Period. 

He seems overly concerned with leaving while Jemma’s still sort of… on-and-off-melancholy as evidenced by the bipolar weather they’ve been having. But she pulls a serious face out of nowhere and tells him to go with his family and besides, she’ll have Skye to keep her company.

Hoo boy, doesn’t Skye go into cardiac arrest hearing _that_. Wow. For five solid minutes (give or take), she’s completely forgotten how to breathe; whatever else they say to each other is lost to the painful beating of her heart. Something she’s sure isn’t supposed to _ache_ like that.

But then Fitz is all up in her space and she lurches back to reality, blinking a little dumbly at him. Her mouth works, but no demanding question falls out requesting enlightenment on his proximity. On a weirdness scale from ‘finding a gecko in her underwear drawer’ to ‘Jemma Simmons controls the weather’ Fitz being _this close to her face_ , probably deserves its own rank. At the very least it’s on par with him talking to her at all.

She’s still floundering for something to say when he hisses, “Do not hurt her. You understand me?”

Skye doesn’t. Not a clue. But she nods her head anyway. Anything to make him step back.

His head jerks sharply, a strange ‘good, glad we settled that’ motion. Fitz leaves her personal space bubble after that, busying himself with hugging Jemma in farewell. Although Skye’s half tempted to say he’s strangling her or _something_. Her stomach boils unpleasantly and immediately she wishes it would go away.

It does. But only once Jemma has backed away from Fitz, waving her hand briefly. Actually, it’s not until her shoulder brushes Skye’s and their fingers bump together – lingering perhaps longer than they should – that the feeling dissipates. Skye doesn’t think anything of it.

She _doesn’t_.

(She totally does.)

 

XX

 

Jemma’s house is oddly cool given the time of year. This is not unwelcome since Skye’s finds herself spending an almost inordinate amount of time there. 

Mostly they do banal things; read, watch television, wander into town. Boring things. Turns out they’re both fairly boring people. Jemma actually looks scandalised the one time Skye asks if she wants to go to one of the myriad parties other students are throwing. It’s a resounding ‘no’ and she doesn’t ask again. She likes it better this way, anyhow.

She finds herself wrapped up in how nice it feels to sprawl out on the couch flicking through channels while Jemma reads beside her, legs thrown across Skye’s lap. Her toes wiggle and Skye tries to suppress her desire to poke them. Instead, she allows her hands to curve around Jemma’s calves and focuses more intently on the television than the cheesy crime drama really requires.

Or perhaps it’s the one afternoon they’re lying on their backs in the grass behind Jemma’s house. They count clouds and birds and planes and Skye wonders if the weather is clear for a reason in particular. Jemma babbles on about something sciencey in regards to clouds and Skye rolls her head to stare at her. It’s not subtle and she knows it, but it’s nice to see the sunlight whisper across Jemma’s features again.

She’s too perfect for words.

When Jemma turns to look at her Skye’s sure she’s wearing a dumb expression. It doesn’t matter. Jemma just _beams_ at her and her heart skips a beat. Or twelve.

She stays for dinner one night. Jemma’s father is only too accommodating and Skye thinks he looks at her strangely. Like he knows something. But the meal is quiet beyond that. It’s weird – the silence. Jemma’s father makes almost no attempt at conversation. Unlike her foster father who is always so intent on prying the events of her day out. That’s probably why she finds it uncomfortable.

Why she’s only too happy for Jemma to drag her away afterwards. They flop onto Jemma’s (rather large, Skye thinks) bed, presumably to watch cat videos on the laptop idling on the desk chair. So when Jemma winds her arms slowly and deliberately around Skye she finds herself both at a loss and curiously warm in places she thinks maybe she shouldn’t be.

“Thank you,” Jemma murmurs into her throat. The words tickle; her skin tingles. The warmth doesn’t go away.

Skye swallows; her throat inexplicably dry. “What for?”

“For being here.” The answer is so simple and yet so unfathomably complicated.

So she hugs back, burying her face into the fabric of Jemma’s shirt. 

It’s scary how easy it is for her to fall asleep still curled around Jemma hours later when the laptop screens fades to black.

 

XX

 

Two days. That’s all it takes before Skye caves. She feels like she can’t really be blamed for it. After holding in all those… _feelings_ for a year (give or take), it’s honestly surprising her that she hasn’t imploded yet.

Jemma swings slowly beneath the giant tree. Patchy sunlight glitters across the dewy grass after the rain shower in the early morning. Skye can’t help but think that Jemma is the most beautiful thing in the world. And how much it sucks that her year has been kinda lame. With her hair pulled back messily – turning red in the light – and her eyes staring up at the clouds, hands wrapped around the rope of the tyre swing. She’s beautiful and Skye’s breath sudden vanishes from her lungs.

_Gone._

Whisked away by Jemma Simmons.

She looks so thoughtful. No doubt trying to consciously manipulate the weather the way Skye suggested she might be able to. She has been managing fine weather a lot of late. Ever since… Ever since the holidays started. It occurs to Skye then that Fitz was wrong. (A shocking first, no doubt.) It’s not a condition.

“It’s a gift,” Skye blurts.

Jemma’s gaze pans around, face lighting up in that odd way it has whenever she sees Skye. The way that makes her _burn_. “What is?”

“The weather.” It’s an explanation, pure and simple. “Fitz called it a condition. You say it’s like a curse. But it’s not. It’s a gift.”

“How do you figure?” The words come out a lot more wry and curious than Skye thinks she’d meant them to.

So she bounces over to the tyre swing, leaning up on her knees to grab hold of the rope right below Jemma’s hands; stilling her. “Because it gives people who are a little bit bad at reading social cues the extra help they need.”

At Jemma’s confused expression, Skye thinks that actions were always her stronger suit than words. She _is_ bad with social cues and voicing how she feels. But she thinks she might have already established that doing something potentially stupid before a little voice convinces her not to is a Goddamn talent.

So she rocks forward and kisses Jemma.

Just like that.

She feels – more than anything else because she’s kind of preoccupied with how Jemma tastes of mangoes and she feels like heaven – when the other girl’s hands slip from the rope. Then those small hands are on Skye’s face and this is what burning alive feels like. Her heart does that thing where it stops working and her stomach turns itself inside out and her lungs feel fit to burst. (But she’s used to it by now. That’s just what Jemma does to her.)

It isn’t until she leans back out (noting with a plunging sensation) the glazed look in Jemma’s eyes. And when she does lean out and stop focusing solely on kissing her again, that Skye even realises the burning thing might be simply due to the fact that the _ropes are on fire_.

She collapses backwards, hands automatically grabbing hold of Jemma’s shirt to tug her with. Intent more on getting away from the flickering flames, she doesn’t notice straight away that Jemma has more or less landed on top of her. 

“What…?” Jemma asks. Her voice sounds like it wants to demand, but there’s too much laughter for it to truly be that.

Wordlessly, Skye points at the swing.

As Jemma twists (one hand resting on Skye’s stomach) to look, one rope burns through and the tyre falls off.

“Oh.” That is her whole reaction.

“That’s it?” Skye asks shrilly. “You set the swing on fire.”

“Fitz will be upset about that,” she mumbles. When her eyes land back on Skye though, she’s smiling. “I’ve never set something on fire before.”

“Great. That’s great. Um… _Why_ was it on fire?” Past tense seems best since the fire fades even as Skye watches it. It just flickers to a stop, fizzling out. 

Jemma’s shrug is severely handicapped but Skye gets it. “I guess because I’ve never been that happy before.” Her face goes red with the words. “Why… why did you do that?” And she tucks a strand of hair behind one ear, nibbling on her lip as though she doesn’t have the foggiest what that does to Skye’s intestines.

And, well… She controls the weather. She’s not _psychic_. At least, Skye hopes she’s not. That could be embarrassing.

“You… Uh…” she tries to answer Jemma’s question but it doesn’t happen like she plans. After clearing her throat she makes a second attempt. “The weather… I know you’re sad because it rains. I know you’re happy because it’s sunny.” She lifts a finger at the sky. It is suspiciously devoid of any and all cloud formations. “I just… I thought…”

“You thought that because it stops raining when you’re around that I like you…” Jemma finishes quietly. As if she’s _just_ now realising this. Huh. 

Sheepishly, Skye can only nod.

Jemma huffs. “Hum. I guess I really do wear my heart on the sky.” She looks back down at Skye then, the smile playing around her lips _distinctly_ devious. “So you kissed me for science, huh?”

Skye feels her face go the brightest red ever. “I… partly…?”

“And the other part?” Jemma’s face is so close to Skye’s by this point it’s just pure distraction.

The air whooshes out of her. “Partly because I just really want to. Have for a while.”

“If the opportunity were to present itself,” Jemma begins; that light still in her eyes that’s turning Skye into a puddle of goo. “Would you do it again?”

“Yes.” She doesn’t even hesitate with her answer this time. “Every day.”

She doesn’t expect it (though maybe she should’ve given their proximity) when Jemma’s mouth finds hers. It doesn’t take her five seconds to recover from the minor surprise and return the sentiment, however.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Jemma breathes against her ear when they separate. “Every day.”

 

_Every day._


End file.
